As I was driving across the Bay Bridge awhile back, I spied a truck with a sign on the door depicting a Border Collie yapping at a bunch of birds in flight. It read “Goose Control—working dogs.”
If something as fun for dogs as chasing birds can be considered work, I should get a paycheck for chasing a shot of Hornitas with a pint of Anchor Steam.
I’m all for gainful canine employment, but I’m not crazy about them chasing our local waterfowl away in the process. I feel the Canadian geese that frequently festoon our open spaces lend a bit of color to the landscape.
Of course, W.C. Fields would retort that white is not a color. He was often seen, four-iron in hand, charging at any geese that landed on his lawn, shouting, “If you’re gonna s**t, s**t green!” Fields certainly could have used some canine “controllers,” but his dislike of dogs (those notorious scene stealers) ruled that out.
I was in flight myself recently, headed toward San Diego, when I pulled out one of those full-color catalogues that are always tucked away in the pocket behind each seat. In a country that produces almost nothing anymore but voracious consumers, a catalogue is sure to calm the jittery nerves of frequent flyers. Airline companies know that in the American psyche, shopping generally trumps all other compulsions – even fear of death.
See, the powers-that-be know that it’s difficult to think or even formulate an intelligent question when you’re kept busy at every moment sucking down or drooling over one product or another. Like Pavlov’s dog, the airlines keep us too busy salivating to remember we’re stuck inside a metal box hurtling through space at insane speeds.
Case in point, I’m flipping through my “Sky Mall Shopping Directory,” wondering why I chose to get on board a tin cylinder soaring above the clouds with no visible means of support when hundreds of other planes sit grounded because the FAA has deemed the industry rampantly negligent in their inspection protocol.
Suddenly – Hey, look! You can get a framed and autographed photo of the Soup Nazi for only $29.95! And here’s a hearing aid disguised as a Blue Tooth. Ingenious! By the time I get to the goofy dog products, I’ve completely forgotten the disquieting coughing sound I heard coming from the hydraulic system when we were taxiing down the runway.
Who wouldn’t be completely ga-ga over the combination indoor dog house-slash-end table on page 57? And howza ‘bout that indoor “dog restroom” consisting of a square yard of astroturf stuck onto a big, flat sponge that can hold up to two gallons of “liquid”? There’s something you don’t see every day on QVC.
What amuses me most is the wink-wink aspects of these items – their slightly unsavory unspoken uses – like that blue tooth/hearing aid that enables its wearer to listen to conversations up to 50 feet away! The proud owner can not only come off as young and hip, but also surreptitiously monitor any comments among the ladies about his new toupe.
And as for the indoor doghouse disguised as an end table, what better place to stash your Lhasa Apso when the landlord drops by unexpectedly to discuss that no pets clause in your rental agreement?
No doubt about it, once you know the covert uses of certain items, you begin to wonder how you ever got along without them. “Oh, those halogen lights in my basement? Yeah, uh, I build exact replicas of 16th Century British Warships down there. Gotta be able see what I’m doing, you know?” Jailhouse lawyers would call this “product lie-ability.”
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